


Among Men

by SaphiraGranger9



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: International Relations, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaphiraGranger9/pseuds/SaphiraGranger9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edna was anything but the conventional woman. Mycroft saw that and took advantage of such an opportunity to make her one of his subordinates. Before Anthea, Mycroft had a Personal Assistant who did so much more than just his legwork.  At least Mycroft had made the promise never to put Anthea in harms way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Man

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Call me Edo, I'm a fledgling writer hoping to cultivate my craft, fan related or otherwise.
> 
> First fanfic in years... Oh, wow, what do I do now? Well, uh.... hopefully not screw up and make a fool out of myself of course.
> 
> So, as you can see, I am a Sherlock fan. This is my first actual fanfiction for this fandom and I just hope I can do it the justice it deserves. I see so many fantastic fanfictions and I'm like "Wow... I wish I could do that!" I'm finally putting my foot in the water, then, with my own take and I hope I can at least tickle someone's fancy.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of Among Men.

                It was difficult for Edna to open her eyes.

            The last time she had felt this way, she had nearly died in a hospital in Manhattan. Head trauma and a knife wound in the abdomen. According to the doctors there, she would not live to see the next day.

            Afterwards, she married and had three children. Funny how life literally wants to yell “PSYCH” in your face when it philanders leaving you. This time was different, though.

            She did not know where she was and she was even more unaware of why. A fog of nothing filled her muddled brains. The bed welcomed her, inviting her to continue on resting while her body ached to get up and move, to make her brain aware of the situation.

            _Why should I?_ she asked herself.

            Gradually, the sound of a heart monitor crept into her ear and the uncomfortably lodged needle in her arm registered. She knew she was not hurt but she knew she was not well. Any moment, though, she feared that she would go into a seizure of some kind. Life would flirt with her once more.

            Edna’s heavy eyelids seemed to let off their weight and she opened her eyes only slightly. It took less than a minute for her eyes to focus on the near sterile environment she knew would be there. A curtain drawn around her particular area for privacy and the odd footboard that held a clipboard made of her charts. She expected a nurse or a doctor to come in and check on her soon.

            Her eyes traveled from the needle and tube in her arm up to the IV bag. It was like having to visit that uncle who you knew would help you out yet you did not really want to see all too often because he seemed to favor the dog over you. Softly, she groaned and turned her head towards the foot of her bed.

            Had she been more alert, Edna’s eyes would have flown open to the sight of a tall, dark figure standing at the end of her bed. The drugs, however, created a beyond delayed reaction. 

            Once her eyes adjusted, Edna saw the shape was definitely a man. He was indeed tall, perhaps over six feet in height with a quite bit of weight on him, you could tell from how his clothes fit that he was a man of business and of importance; that altogether seemed imposing. The hooked nose on his face and the set of his jaw beneath a neatly kept head of short reddish hair made him look like an eagle Edna had once seen on a trek through the Rockies. She could not see his eyes, though.

            His hands were placed on the foot of the bed, fingers tapping the plastic and metal in a tempered patience that may have required years of practice to accomplish.

            “Godfrey…” she croaked.

            “I’m afraid to say, Mrs. Norton, that you are quite mistaken,” replied the man.

            Edna could finally make out the man’s eyes and froze at the steel grey that looked back at her.  They were empty, making the man a hollow shell or worse…

            She wanted to sit up but found that she could not.

            “Don’t fidget too much, I’m quite sure dislodging of that IV would be rather uncomfortable,” the man drawled.

            He was English, with a rich deep voice that resonated only within the confined space around Edna’s bed. Excellent control yet it held a certain whimsical lightness behind the tone, it was time to be on the verge of moderate to severe terror, drugs or no drugs.

            “What do you want?” rasped Edna, “Who are you?”

            One of the man’s ginger eyebrows quirked upwards, his head tilting forward slightly and his mouth still set in a frown.

            “Who would you say I am?” he asked.

            She shook her head.

            “Exactly,” said the man, “For the time being, at least, I am no one to you. Just a… visitor, if you will.”

            Edna just looked at him, waiting for another question to come to mind. Her eyes made a slow sweep of the enclosed space: heart monitor, no one, nightstand, no one again. She tilted her head back a bit further into the pillow to get a better look at his face. Still the same, unreadable face.

            “They don’t allow visitors without consent,” she said, “I certainly don’t know you.”

            “I believe we had already established that, Mrs. Norton,” said the man with ice in his tone, “If you don’t mind, I would rather call you by your first name… Edna.”

            Edna shrunk back. She could not recall ever meeting this man before. If so, he had just been a passing face, nothing more. Had he been just some annoying stranger and she had the strength to sit up, she could have scared him off with just enough venom in her voice. It was as if she was talking to an employer, though.

            “Well then, Edna,” said the stranger, “Do you remember what country you are in currently?”

            There was a stunned silence. In the beat of a heart, the man had gone from big business to casual “how’s the weather” talk.

            “I… would assume Pennsylvania, United States,” she said.

            “It would be in your best interest if you did not lie, Edna.”

            The comment made Edna flinch, not just because of the man’s tone, but because he caught that her lie with accurate precision. He did not even allow the excuse that the drugs muddled her mind. Anyone capable of this was a horrendous threat.

            “… I’m in the United Kingdom—London, if I’m right,” she said hesitantly.

            “Quite right,” the man replied tartly, “Know immediately that I am not going to be dull by asking why you are here. I know exactly why—Her Majesties Secret Service knows why and we are not at all pleased.”

            Edna’s eyes widened a fraction. The _British Secret Service_?

            “My God—.”

            “Yes, Edna, we know everything and virtually most of the evidence has been gathered. If you would prefer not to be persecuted for treason and terrorism in both the United Kingdom and the United States, I suggest you cooperate thoroughly with our investigation.”

Edna stared at him, and then looked down in guilt and horror.

“Who is your employer?” asked Mycroft.

Again, Edna kept trying to avoid eye contact. From the corner of her eye, she could see the man shifting to the side just a little. His stance was relaxing slightly but he still gave the impression that he was the bigger fish in the pond. It was certain that he cut to the chase rather quickly, small talk was beneath him,—if there was no bigger picture, there was no reason to speak. He knew the details already.

“I can’t say,” muttered Edna.

The man quirked an eyebrow, his lips pursing just a fraction managing to avoid making the sour librarian look Edna knew well.

“If you are afraid of repercussions from this employer of yours, I do have one offer to lie on the table,” said the man, “In return for your information, your safety as well as the safety of your family and friends will be ensured. This hospital room, in fact, is one of those measures.”

“The room?” asked Edna.

“Yes,” said the man with a slow nod, “It is the top floor of this hospital. My people searched it with the utmost care before your transfer. This curtain around your bed hides our conversation—there are no other patients on this floor, the need for privacy is therefore not necessary. It was rather inconvenient—trying to create a more secluded atmosphere and ending up in a room with more windows than a cathedral. Nonetheless, it was all that we could do to ensure the utmost isolation for this little meeting.

Now, if you don’t mind, Edna, I must have the name of your employer and perhaps a hint of an idea of what he wished to gain by allowing two world powers to fall to their knees.”

For a long while Edna did not speak. She knew what she could have done and it terrified her when her employer placed that kind of power in her hands. It terrified her even more once they had made her family a target if she refused to follow the outrageous demands. This man, if he was true to his word, would protect her and the people closest to her. Yet, for all Edna knew, he was just an enemy agent with his feet dangling above the same frightful fire she was.

Exhaustion began to take her slowly. She would not be able to last long enough to speak to the man at the rate she was going. He knew this perfectly well and strolled casually towards her bedside.

When he stopped by her bedside, Edna saw that the man, if she had been standing, was approximately a foot and two inches taller than she was. He was looked quite heavy, suggesting he was indolent and did not do much physical labor. He was man who looked much like a posh politician… but retained an omniscient presence, debunking all stereotypes one could make on a politician. Whatever he wanted to know, Edna wanted to tell him. Hesitance was her rational friend in this case, allowing the man to scrutinize but not pry her open completely.

Gracefully, he stooped down so that he could make better eye contact with her. Then he took her hand in his, not in any romantic sense, but in the fashion, a priest would grasp a dying parishioner’s hand while giving them their last rites. At that moment, his grey-blue eyes were astoundingly soft. Edna’s defenses went down. Whether it was drugs or just the effect of this man, she was now unafraid of this man and more concerned about her own situation.

“What are their names?” he asked.

“His… there was only one…”

“I was quite certain but I am open to fault,” said the man, “who is he?”

Before Edna could even stop herself, she told the man her employer’s name. She also told him exactly what he wanted to do and that was creating a global economic panic. As she detailed her employer’s exact plan, she mentioned his threat on her family and her voice began to hitch. She refused to cry, especially in front of this man and as she was getting ready to fall asleep. The man, other than holding her hand, said and did nothing other than incline his head and nod at the precise moments. Hearing her choking voice did not cause him to stir either.

Finally, after what seemed like the longest explanation in the world, Edna fell silent. Her consciousness was slipping and she was beginning to lose all sense of where and who she was again. The man smiled a terse grin of satisfaction and stood up, letting go of her hand.

“Thank you, Edna,” he said politely, “Within the next twenty-four hours, your employer shall not remain a free man—rest assured.”

“Please… promise me my family won’t suffer,” said Edna.

“I will see what I can do. However,” he continued, “do not think that this is the last you will see of me.”

“Why…?” breathed Edna, falling deeper into her mattress.

The man gave no answer and his face gave away no secrets. All Edna had left to ask was—

“Who are you?”

The man took his sweet time to answer that question, by then Edna was on the cusp of sleep. Then he made the reply that set a completely new world in motion.

“Mycroft Holmes,” he said, “You and I will be seeing each other very soon.”

Without further question, Edna had gone back to sleep. Mycroft Holmes left the room like the phantom he was.


	2. Transition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second Chapter-- hopefully, yay~. Thanks for the people who sent me Kudos (I accidentally sent myself one so... thank you, the two people who sent me a Kudos, that was lovely of you. :) )

Edna woke what felt to her like days later. This time, there was a bustle of activity around her and familiar sounds. Hospital sounds. Once her strength built up, she was able to push herself into a better seating position and get a better look around. Exactly the sights you would see in a hospital. Nurses chatting as they treated patients, doctors walking by while inspecting clipboards with the utmost interest, and patients all around adding to and creating the chaos around them—perhaps her meeting with that strange man--Mycroft Holmes-- had all been a drug induced dream. The room was painted a light blue color and had two large windows on the wall behind where two other beds plus hers had been placed. Edna had to admit, it was rather calming compared to what she had remembered from her last hospital experience. That was when her last child, Charlie, was born--the room was dark and bleak and did nothing to calm Edna's nerves once she had gone into labor.

There was only one other patient that Edna could see in the bed to her right. The bed on her left had a janitor cleaning up after what seemed to be an unsightly explosion of blood. Edna had to turn her head completely to the right to prevent herself from vomiting.

“Yeah, poor bloke in that bed bled out, 'ad to move him to surgery.”

Edna looked at her fellow patient. It was an older man, mid to late fifties, his hair was a dingy brown flecked with grey especially at the temples. He sat up with a book in his lap, looking particularly relaxed for someone hooked up to a heart monitor. His hazel eyes magnified by spectacles he wore on the bridge of his nose making Edna to think of her father. She made a note to call him once she was out of the hospital.

“Poor guy,” she muttered.

“Definitely wasn’ pretty—overheard the doctors sayin’ he ain’t gonna make it... M’names Ian, by the way,” said the man, "Sorry we 'ad ta start talkin' next ta a blood showa."

“Hello, Ian,” said Edna with hesitance, “My name’s Edna and don't be. Trust me, I've held conversations in stranger places and under stranger circumstances...”

“Odd, ‘aven’t heard the name 'Edna' since me gran was livin’,” muttered Ian, pushing up his spectacles on his nose.

Edna nodded. “My mother is fond of older names. Come to think of it, I am too. Married a man named Godfrey and then I named my children odd names like Harrison, Eileen, and Charles. My kids will probably never forgive me.”

“Nah,” chortled the old man, “’avin a different name 'as it's benefits. Much less confusion-- but  everyone in the world wants ta name their lads Jack an’ Thomas these days. Me own son’s named Archie. Don’t resent me any for it.”

“Yeah, but I bet he’s not an eight-year-old who is afraid of having the embarrassing name reputation.”

“'e’s twenty-five now, I think e’ll be just fine,” grunted Ian.

He shut the book on his lap—a British spy thriller. One that Edna recalled seeing on Godfrey’s bookshelf back in their flat.

“Ya voice,” said Ian, “Ya ain’t from 'ere. Lemme guess—'oliday gone wrong?”

“Not really,” chuckled Edna, “I’m originally from New Jersey. My mother was from London so, once she and my father divorced, she moved back here. Ever since, I have gone back and forth. You could say I have dual citizenship.”

“Sounds ‘bout right,” said Ian, “Pity ‘bout your mum and dad, though. They decent folks?”

“My mother works as a secretary for a public school and my father is a commanding officer in the United States Navy,” replied Edna.

Ian whistled. “Blimey, I’m sittin’ next to a Navy Brat then.”

“Far from it,” laughed Edna.

“What you doin’ ‘ere then, luv? Visitin’ mum?”

“Actually, I moved here just a few months ago,” said Edna, “My husband, was from London and, because he is the oldest and his father recently died, we moved here so he could carry on his father’s business—he's a lawyer.”

“I knew it—the bloke mos’ certainly looked like one,” said Ian.

Edna blinked. “My husband? ...Godfrey was here?”

Ian looked at her incredulously. His dark eyebrows furrowed slightly under a light frown and he moved his glasses back up the bridge of his nose after they had slid their way down once again. He sat up slightly and shifted into a more comfortable position.

“’Course 'e was, ‘is wife’s in the 'ospital after all,” said Ian, “Came in just as they brought ya down ‘ere. Looked very professional, very lawyer-ly. Outrageously calm if I do say so meself.”

“That can’t be right,” muttered Edna, frowning, “Godfrey had business down in Cardiff. Did he have children with him?”

“None at all,” said Ian, “They brought ya down just this mornin’, after all. Be quite painful for kids ta see their mum in the hospital.”

“Definitely not enough time for Godfrey to catch the train and get back to London,” muttered Edna to herself.

            A chill ran down Edna’s spine.

            “What did he look like?” asked Edna.

            “What?”

            “My husband—what did he look like and what was he wearing?”

            Exasperated Ian let out a sigh. “Luv, ya ought to know your own ‘usband by now. Right down to the ring—by the way, tell ‘im he better put it on the left ‘and when he gets back, would ya?”

            “Godfrey wears his on the left,” insisted Edna, “I think you might have been mistaken. My husband is in Cardiff—there’s no possible way he could get here that quickly if I was just admitted this morning.”

            Ian held up his hands in resignation. “I’ll give ya that one but, seriously, ya oughta know your ‘usband by now.”

            “Just tell me what he looked like,” said Edna.

            “Pretty tall, overweight, wearin’ a three piece suit that probably cost more than me knee surgery,” Ian trailed off, trying to think back on the man he saw, “'ad red ‘air—Can’t believe ya married a ginger. Ya seem like a nice girl an’ all but your ‘usband was as cold as ice. Oddly calm bloke but gave orders to all of the 'ospital staff like 'e owned the place. Don’t think I’ve ever ‘eard a man sound so imperial in all me life.

            It was strange, he walked up to your bedside once you were ‘ere and just watched ya. Kept lookin' at the door too, waitin' for somethin'. Tried ta start a friendly chat wit ‘im but all 'e did was glare at me and I clamed up. Then 'e left without another word. Good riddance, if ya don’t mind me sayin’. The man was odd enough as is and the brolly 'e ‘ad made it worse.”

            Edna said nothing. Godfrey was tall but he was thin and his suits were cheap. As callous as he was, he could not—as Ian had described it—sound imperial if his job depended on it. She thought about her meeting with the man. How long ago had that been? Yesterday? The day before? The man, she knew was—

            “Mycroft Holmes,” whispered Edna.

            “Beg pardon?” quipped Ian.

            Edna turned her attention back to Ian, trying to think of a good reply.

            “That wasn’t my husband,” said Edna, “It was someone else.”

            “… Well, I’ll be. 'e’s your boyfriend is 'e?”

            There was a pregnant pause.

            “Huh?”

            “Why else would a man come see ya like that? Obviously ya had ta be sleepin’ wit’ ‘im. What 'appened? A night get too excitin’ an’ 'e 'it your ‘ead on the bedpoast?”  Ian chortled.

            “Good God,” groaned Edna. Her head throbbed from the concussion she had received from anything other than a bedpost. To be exact, it was a concrete wall and someone’s fist. Ian continued to laugh, allowing it to become more raucous at Edna's reaction.

            “No,” she continued. The idea of even having an affair with someone especially like Mycroft Holmes was as preposterous as suggesting Stalin and Hitler spent pleasant Sunday afternoons together playing chess.

            “Seems reasonable, your taste is really strange, though, luv,” snickered Ian, ignoring Edna’s insistence, “Nice lookin’ man—probably could do with pounds off ‘im—but just the definition of them dominatrix types.”

            “Sir, believe me, I know a dominatrix and he is definitely not one,” sighed Edna, “… or at least I hope not. And he is definitely not my boyfriend. I have no time for that.”

            “Well then who is 'e?” said Ian. He had finally stopped laughing but kept some of the good nature in his voice.

            She shook her head. Who exactly was Mycroft Holmes to her? A potential friend or likely enemy seemed to fit his spectrum. She just hoped it was not the latter because the former was just as equally unlikely.

            “Well then, ya’ve got yourself a freaky deaky there,” said Ian without waiting for a verbal answer, “Gonna call NSY to get ‘im ‘fore 'e gets too cozy wit ya?”

            Edna shook her head. “He is probably the least dangerous man on the planet right now… as well as the most dangerous.”

            “Can’ ‘ave it both ways, dear,” said Ian, suddenly serious, “Which is it?”

            Settling deeper into the pillows of the bed for comfort, Edna tried to erase the image she had of Mycroft’s hawk-like vigil at her bedside. It reminded her too much of many of her employers from before, always watching and waiting for her to show any sign of doubt. To think that this man was potentially going to follow up on his promise that they would meet soon was horrifying. However, she had to admit, there was a part of her brain that trusted his words especially when he promised the safety of her friends and family as well as Edna herself. If he had been able to arrange their short-lived meeting in the topmost floor of a hospital in almost absolute solitude, he surely had enough power and promise to protect. Meeting him once again was the last thing she wanted, though.

            She decided to take a leap. “The man who saved my life.”

            Ian fell silent. Within a few minutes, they changed subjects towards a much more comfortable conversation. Edna pushed thoughts of Holmes and his random appearance into her life easily to the farthest corner of her minds within the hours following.

            Ian was pleasant company; Edna enjoyed speaking within him as she had once enjoyed speaking to her grandfather. He was a mill worker—he had to have minor knee surgery after falling on it during a workday. Married to a woman named Imogen (Edna’s heart swelled at the sound of the name), he had his son Archie who was now in Iraq in Operation: Iraqi Freedom.

            The young woman and old man traded stories up until Ian was being carted away to prep for surgery.

            “Good luck, Ian,” she said.

            “If I don’ make it out, tell me wife I’m sorry for the toaster oven incident,” said Ian.

            “Hey, it wasn’t your fault that the frayed cord lit your curtains on fire.”

            “Yeah, but the wife don’t know I was tryin’ ta fix the damn cord in the first place.”

            Edna sniggered and offered Ian last good-bye before the nurses took him out of the room. She settled back into her pillows and shut her eyes. It was time to focus on the real world again. With a sigh, she wondered whether her employer was going to wring her neck personally or have her assassinated. Just as long as it was quick, painless, and did not involve the torture of her family, she did not mind.

            She sighed and ran a hand over her face. Perhaps Mycroft would have her killed. Maybe it is all an inside operation she was never aware of. Before she could break out the whole tinfoil hat kit, an afro-Asian nurse came up to her with short sleek dark brown hair and glasses and a sweet smile on her face—her badge read “G. Ammons” and, from the looks of it, she was a new nurse. Edna had to stop herself from cooing over her dinosaur lanyard, which helped brighten her bleak mood just as the latter half of her conversation with Ian had.

            “Feeling better, Mrs. Norton?” she asked in a light and sweet tone that made Edna grin slightly.

            “If my head would stop hurting, I would be in tiptop condition,” replied Edna.

            Nurse Ammons chuckled. “Your doctor should have your prescription ready by tomorrow morning. Right now, I’m going to do a quick check up just to be sure nothing is wonky and then your sister is here to see you.”

            Edna stared. “My sister?”

            “Yes,” said Nurse Ammons, “She got the call from your husband this morning that you had been injured and she then called up here to tell us she would be taking you home with her tomorrow once you’re discharged.”

            Recoiling, Edna made no comment on the husband part.

            “Did my—er, husband—say anything to my sister about bringing the kids or calling my mother…?”

            Nurse Ammons shrugged. “Your sister didn’t give many details,” she said, “Just that you were going home with her and that was that.”

            With that, Nurse Ammons checked Edna’s heart rate monitor while Edna stared straight ahead, barely listening to the girl murmur her vitals. The Million Dollar question ran through her mind the entire time: How in God’s name did Mycroft Holmes get ahold of her sister?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just more of a transition chapter and sort of a way to get to know Edna a little bit. I'm trying not to squish the entire back story of the characters into one chapter because, seriously, that just bogs the story down. I learned this from reading this month's issue of Writer's Digest. Of course, this chapter itself might be bogging the story down but hey, I felt that this was more logical than just having Edna come out of the hospital. It also gives a better description of what may come.
> 
> Anyway, names! How I love them and how I love finding and choosing which ones I want to use. I have way too much fun with it.
> 
> Edna was, back in the Victorian era, not a common name so I decided to use that one when I wrote Edna for the Ritchie version of Sherlock Holmes. After that, it just stuck--I could not imagine giving Edna any other name.
> 
> The names that Ian mentioned earlier in the chapter were actually on a list of the most popular boys names being used for babies in the UK. Jack and Thomas are not necessarily at the top of the list but they were there so I used them. Ian just randomly came into my head, I saw Imogen on a list somewhere, and I used to have a turtle named Archie (I watched a lot of The Land Before Time as a kid, please don't judge me...) Needless to say, I will be pulling names from just about everywhere I can. 
> 
> Harrison, Eileen, and Charles were all names I liked for Edna's children. Harrison just because I wanted something regal and cool sounding; Eileen because it sounded poetic and very gentle; and I've always liked the name "Charles" for some reason. It's just a neat sounding name.
> 
> The "G" in nurse Ammon's stands for "Grace" which came from yet ANOTHER list of popular names in the UK. You may never see her again so I figured I'd throw that in before she goes and I leave people agonizing over what the G stood for (Gretchen, Gretel, Gangnam... WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!). It's kind of like the speculation over Lestrade's first name: until Moffat, Gatiss and their awesome team of writers finally decided it would be Greg, people were like the guy in the double rainbow video over it.
> 
> Godfrey Norton is a character from the original Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. If you have read the original canon, then you know exactly who I'm talking about and you know exactly where this may be going.
> 
> Anyway, I put a friend in this chapter. I might be giving a few of my real life peeps tiny itsy bitsy cameos in some of these chapters. I just thought it would be fun to insert certain people into these chapters as different characters. This chapter, G. Ammons, is based off of my work buddy--who shall be called Pinky Pie if I refer to her because of her love of My Little Pony. 
> 
> Also, I want to apologize in advance for the lack of surprises. My writing is rather predictable. What I thought would be a surprising plot twist or turn might actually be just... blatantly obvious. I'm sorry if I disappoint.
> 
> In the meantime, beta would be appreciated, kudos are love, and comments are always welcome. Brit picking is also welcome for I have never been there or experienced their hospital system. Help me improve as a writer, let me know! ;) Good-night!

**Author's Note:**

> Edna has been through so many character transformations it's not even funny. Originally, she was intended for the Guy Ritchie adaptations of Sherlock Holmes as a translator and missionary who needed Watson's help Post-Reichenbach and had a history with Mycroft Holmes (Stephen Fry was awesome in the film, I will not lie. After that performance I became a fan of his and these ideas started). 
> 
> Then, this is still a debatable topic in my mind, I turned Edna into Edward. The idea still holds but I still need a plausible reason to create a relationship between him and Mycroft otherwise it turns into an uncontrollable slash!fic. Then I gave Edward/Edna children and a spouse. You will meet them later.
> 
> Eventually, Edna (not Edward, for some reason) crept into the BBC Sherlock scene almost out of nowhere. I guess it's my obsession to try and keep consistency between stories that led her here. I put her/him in Ritchie, tried moving her/him to the original stories... She/he's been through the ringer all year, my poor brainchild. She/he's bound to go through more here.
> 
> Whether or not there will be romance is up for debate. In the meantime, betas are fantastic, reviews are very welcome, and I bid you all a merry Christmas and a good-night!


End file.
